Who are you and what do you do:
Tamara Lindeman. I have my own thing, The Weather Station, and I sing with Bruce Peninsula. I once played with Entire Cities.
Why do you do what you do:
Probably because I think too much.
Current obsessions:
My new guitar, a 20’s parlour creature.
Story told to you when you were a child that you will never forget:
There are so many, but for some reason I thought of the Hans Christian Anderson version of the Little Mermaid. It is devastating, nothing like the Disney version, and I remember crying over it.
Song you wish you wrote:
Anything by Baby Eagle.
Most played track on your itunes:
Jim Cain by Bill Callahan.
Most cherished musical object:
My beautiful centenarian classical guitar, passed down from great grandfather to grandfather to father till stolen offhandedly by myself upon leaving for university.
Go-to album on a rainy day:
The Stanley Brothers – anything, but specifically the one I have is a radio recording called ‘An Evening Long Ago’
Proudest moment:
Playing Sappyfest.
Most vulnerable moment:
The ten minutes before I played Sappyfest.
.
Are you most influenced by your surroundings or your inner monologue:
Inner monologue, at times to a physically dangerous extent… in terms of the natural obstacles presented by a city street.
Favourite venue to play in and why:
The Neat Cafe in Burnstown is the sweetest place ever. They are lovely people and they feed you and the audiences are unbelievable.
Dream venue to play in and why:
Massey Hall, where else?
Top album released this year:
Jennifer Castle – Castlemusic
First band t-shirt you ever purchased from a merch table:
I think it was The Constantines. Green, with pink microphones.
Band you’d leave your bandmates for:
The Books
Album you wish your parents exposed you to in the womb:
The Books – Thought for Food. Though when I listen to it, I feel I was exposed to it in the womb.
Album you want to expose your kin to whilst in the womb:
Same.
Last record you purchased:
I think it was Bill Callahan Apocalypse. People keep giving me records otherwise.
If for some reason you lost the ability to make and play music, what would fill that gap:
I would say writing, but I do that anyway, and I think painting more accurately fills that gap of something that is beyond words.
